Promises To Keep
by beyondjaded
Summary: Ten years ago, they reunited. Ten years ago, he disappeared. Christmas will never be the same. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Songs belong to Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO), everything Labyrinth belongs to Jim Henson, and David Bowie belongs to Iman. :(**

**

* * *

**

_"I don't believe I can say what had happened_  
_All of those words that we put into play_  
_No longer matter, I should have known that then_  
_I just know you're far away_  
_On this Christmas Day"_

- Ornament, TSO

* * *

**Jareth**

How long had it been? I don't really even know anymore, though I believe twenty years. Twenty long, torturous years. And every moment of them, I had missed her. My beautiful, wonderful Sarah. The girl-child who defeated my Labyrinth at only fifteen years of age. The woman who gave me my own dreams four of her years after that.

I can still remember the night she wished me back to her. It was wonderful and splendid. A cold winter's night lit ablaze by our passion. It was Christmastime in her world, but she didn't go home to celebrate the holiday with her family. Instead, she stayed alone in the small flat she shared with roommates who did go home. No, change that. She wasn't alone. She called me on Christmas Eve, and I stayed with her for two weeks until her roommates returned. She wanted to know if I had been serious when I had begged her to stay before and confessed that she couldn't stop thinking about me. All I could do was kiss her and tell her how much I loved her.

Every night and most days we made love - sometimes wild and passionate, sometimes slow and gentle. The first time was in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace, a furry white rug beneath us. Until that visit, I knew I loved her. But it was then that I realized how deeply in love I had fallen. I never wanted to imagine another moment without her.

But she couldn't return with me. She wanted to finish college first, she said. Always a supporter of education, I did not argue with her. Instead, I promised to visit her regularly and to someday take her back to the Goblin Kingdom to rule alongside me as my Queen. She thought the idea of her being a Queen was funny; I thought it was perfect. She was perfect. She had just the right combination of fiery drive and loving compassion. I could only imagine how much my subjects would love the woman who could bring their king to his knees.

Our last day together was bittersweet. I didn't want to leave but knew I had to go. I had already been away from my kingdom for far too long. Who knew what kind of mischief the goblins had caused while I was away. Time runs twice as fast in the Underground, and so our two-week visit had actually been an entire month in my world. I told her she could call on me anytime, and I would answer. We tentatively planned for me to come visit again in another two weeks, after I had cleaned up whatever mess surely awaited me.

Our last kiss started passionately but slowly turned into a long, lingering chaste one. I wanted to savor every moment of her, memorize her taste. Her roommates arrived just as I vanished.

And I never saw her again.

* * *

**Sarah**

The two weeks I spent with Jareth were the best of my life and went by way too fast. Waiting another two weeks for his return seemed like torture, but I buried myself back into school and my job as a waitress to make the time go by faster. It didn't work.

My two roommates went out that Friday not understanding why I refused to go with them like I usually did. I simply waived them off and waited for Jareth. And waited. And waited. Maybe he meant Saturday, I thought. But he didn't show up then either. Nor on Sunday. Nor the next week or the week after that. Falling into a deep depression, I started to realize that maybe it had all been a dream or a hallucination. Three months later I had definitive proof that it was not. But still Jareth never came back.

I continued to wait for him.

I graduated from college with honours in Interior Design. I did some freelance work here and there, but my waitressing job continued to be the main income provider. The tips were good - great, really - and allowed me to raise my daughter out of poverty. Truth be told, I worked more hours than was legally sane, but I did what I had to do. Not long after graduation, my roommates moved away. I kept the flat by myself, fearing to leave in case Jareth returned someday. We lived there for seven years before the building was bought and torn down for a parking lot.

During all this time, Jareth was never far from my mind. Sometimes I wanted to forget him but knew I never could. It hurt so much to think of him... and I thought of him all the time. How could I not? Sometime during our two weeks together, Jareth had given me a most precious Christmas gift - our daughter Emma. She was a near-exact replica of her father with long blonde hair and mismatched eyes of blue and brown. She even had his sharp facial features and lean, lithe figure. And when she was angry or upset, Jareth's spoiled haughtiness came out perfectly.

I did not hide from her who her father was. Once she was old enough to start asking, I told her. I couldn't lie. I needed to believe that he would come back for us someday, and when he did, I wanted his daughter to be comfortable around him. He would come back. He had to. I knew it. Had to believe it. But every once in awhile, dread would creep in. Fear. Doubt. It was usually at night as I laid sleepless in bed, wondering where he was or even if he was still alive.

So I did the only thing any woman would do - I pushed all my emotions to the back of my mind and acted happy. I would not have Emma growing up with a depressed mom. Didn't want it to affect her like that. I always had been a good actress.

* * *

**Author's Note: Got inspired to write this last December while listening to TSO's cd "Christmas Eve and Other Stories" - specifically, the songs "Ornament," "Old City Bar," "Promises To Keep," and "This Christmas Day." The story won't follow the storyline of the songs, but they certainly contributed to my melancholy mood while writing it. I certainly recommend listening to them if you haven't.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, here's the second part of Promises to Keep. Sorry it took so long. I'm still not quite happy with it, but if I waited until I was, the story would never be continued.  
**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Songs belong to Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO), everything Labyrinth belongs to Jim Henson, and David Bowie belongs to Iman. :(**

**

* * *

**

_"Somewhere the wind carves moments in the snow  
And if he sees her, he never lets it show  
He just drifts behind her erasing every step  
Tinsel and garland are whispered through trees"_

- Ornament, TSO

* * *

**Jareth**

My return to the castle had resulted in my immediate imprisonment. Seems that while I was gone, the top general in my army falsely declared that I had been assassinated and proclaimed himself king. I had been stupid to not keep check on the kingdom or at least keep in contact with my advisor. I had been too wrapped up in Sarah, often quite literally, and thought nothing of them.

I was kept in the dungeons, chained to the wall of a small cell. Iron spiked cuffs permanently bit into the skin of my ankles, wrists, and neck. The iron effectively nullified my magic and made me constantly sick. The toilet was a hole in the corner that transported waste to the Bog. Luckily, my ancestors had the foresight to make the transportation magical. I'm sure the stench that would have come through a direct line would have been completely unbearable and would have broken my will to survive years ago. It was bad enough that I had to smell myself, which wasn't very rosy considering the lack of any water to wash myself. The little water I got was with my meal, and I always made sure to savour every last drop as it made its way down my dehydrated throat.

My confinement was a dark and solitary one. My only contact for all these years was a goblin maid who brought me one small meal a day.

It was an especially dreary day when I asked her to cut my hair. My once beautiful, platinum locks had turned into a dirty, knotty mess. A semi-dull kitchen knife was all she could get, but it did the job. I nearly gave up hope that day after she explained that the entire kingdom, except for the king and the top commander in his army, believed me to be dead. Even worse, he was not hated. There was a mutual toleration between the king and his subjects. He let them do whatever they wanted, and they obeyed him willingly. No one wished for my return. Did Sarah?

I named my goblin maid Caoimhe. In the language of my forefathers, it meant 'gentleness.' Caoimhe had never been given a name, and I thought it suited her. I eventually began looking forward to her afternoon visit to bring me food. After centuries of the hearing the constant chattering of goblins, the silence was deafening. It was wonderful to hear someone else's voice and to have my thoughts taken, albeit briefly, away from Sarah. It hurt so much to think of her... and I thought of her all the time.

I never forgot Sarah. Even as I felt myself wasting away in the dungeon of my castle, she was always at the forefront of my mind. In my dreams, we were living our happily ever after. And that gave me hope. I would survive this. I would escape and return to her. Damn this whole place to hell. I didn't want my throne back. It meant nothing to me. Not anymore. Only Sarah. Sometimes I wondered if she still remembered me. Had she given up and found someone new? Was she happily married with a houseful of children? I wasn't a fool. I knew all these years in her world was too long to wait for someone. But it pained my heart too much to think about it. So I didn't.

It was sometime during my sixteenth year of imprisonment that Caoimhe confessed that she wanted to help me escape. She told me I was her friend and that she couldn't stand to see me waste away like I was. But only the king had the key to the cuffs, and no one knew where he kept it.

* * *

**Sarah**

_If wishes were fishes, the sea would be full._

Lord only knows how many times I wished for Jareth's return. I only wished for him by name. At first I didn't think to call him by his title. Weeks later when I did think of it, I was too afraid. If something bad had happened, and he wasn't the Goblin King anymore... well, I didn't want some psycho Aos Sí showing up on my doorstep. Hoggle once told me to ask the right question; I knew that I had to make sure and ask specifically for Jareth. But he never answered.

Hoggle... I hadn't been able to contact any of my friends either since Jareth left. Of course, I had stopped calling them just over a year after my return. At the time, I assumed that they just didn't want to answer. But as time went on and Jareth never came back, I started to wonder. What happened to him? I would not believe he had changed his mind. It was not possible. Not the way he loved me during his visit. Years later, the memory of the wonderful things he did to me during sex still made my toes curl. And every time we climaxed, he would always whisper 'I love you' over and over into my ear. No, he would come back if he could. Something had to have happened. But I tried not to think of it. It just hurt too much.

I did try dating a few times, more for Emma's sake than mine. No other man could ever even remotely interest me. But I wanted Emma to have a father figure in her life. Dad and Karen lived a few hours away. We visited when we could, but I was afraid it wasn't enough. Emma was seven when she asked me to stop trying to replace her Daddy. She always was so smart and observant for her age. But she was right. She knew I was doing it for her and she didn't want me to. Neither did I.

I had always wondered about Emma's magical ability, i.e. if she had any at all. A part of me knew she did. I, however, had no idea how to help her develop it. Emma knew her Daddy had magic, but we never talked about it much. So I was quite surprised one day when I was standing in the living room and watched as my seven-year-old daughter clenched her hand like she was holding a glass and stared at her hand. A few moments later, the glass of water appeared, and she drank it as if it were an everyday occurrence.

I had been stupid to not attempt teaching her magic, but I then knew I could ignore it no longer. There had to be rules. Only in the house and only when no one besides myself could see her. And she was not to try anything new without me present. Glasses of water were one thing, but Emma had inherited my imagination and I worried wondering what she could come up with.

She was quite perceptive also. Toby had not remembered anything from his visit Underground. Emma, on the other hand, quite confidently remarked to me during a visit to my parents that Toby had a faint scent on him - "like magic." I asked what she meant, and she said she wasn't sure. She just knew the scent. I wasn't surprised anymore. Luckily, she knew to keep all this secret, though whether it was innate or my constant reminding, I'll never know. My daughter was always smarter than she should be, especially when it came to magic. It disconcerted me greatly knowing there was little I could do to help her learn.

Career-wise, my interior design clientele was growing. I still did waitressing on the side, though. I started working for a small design firm when Emma was six. I loved my job, especially since it paid so much better. I was able to buy a nice three bedroom house a few blocks away from my old flat. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to move very far. _What if he comes back and can't find me?_ It was a silly thought, but one I couldn't shake. But Emma didn't want to move far either.

* * *

**Author's Note: Got inspired to write this last December while listening to TSO's cd "Christmas Eve and Other Stories" - specifically, the songs "Ornament," "Old City Bar," "Promises To Keep," and "This Christmas Day." The story won't follow the storyline of the songs, but they certainly contributed to my melancholy mood while writing it. I certainly recommend listening to them if you haven't.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Since it took so long to update, here's chapter 3 too. Little short, but they will start getting longer - promise. :)**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Songs belong to Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO), everything Labyrinth belongs to Jim Henson, and David Bowie belongs to Iman. :(**

**

* * *

**

_"And the dream is still alive  
From that first December morning  
And it always will survive  
As long as we can see  
That the dreams that we find in life  
Are the dreams we tend to seek  
And Christmas has its promises to keep"_

- Promises To Keep, TSO

* * *

**Jareth**

I didn't ask Caoimhe how she managed to get the key. I wasn't sure I wanted to know. But it was a long time before I could regain my strength and part of my magic. It had been so long, and I wasn't sure it would return at all. Was I permanently damaged? I didn't care. I would find a way to Sarah somehow.

Caoimhe continued to bring me my daily meal as usual. In all the years I had been there, no one besides her had ever come to my part of the dungeon. Turns out my solitary confinement was quite lucky indeed. Without the pure iron poisoning my bloodstream, my magic started getting stronger again. I just needed enough to transport myself back Aboveground. Unfortunately, that took quite a bit of magic to do and only the most skilled were able to do it. I was determined. By this time nineteen years had passed. Nearly nine and a half years in Sarah's world. What would she do if I showed up now? Would she take me back? Angrily throw me out? Would she tell me sorry, but she was married? She was 28 now; the possibility was a grim one for me.

Day and night were the same to me. There were no windows in the dungeon, and the only clock was Caoimhe's visit. I knew she came at noon everyday. After so many years, my mind and body began to adapt around this cycle. It was this reason alone that I knew it was early morning the day I was finally able to create a crystal again for the first time in nearly twenty years. I smiled to myself in joy, though the crystal did not last long. My magic was still too weak to hold it. More months passed before I finally felt I was strong enough to transport. Caoimhe insisted on 'cleaning me up' as she put it. The old, dull knife she used to cut my hair was resharpened and once again she chopped the knots out of my hair and chopped off as much of my beard as she could without cutting my face. My hair ended up in different lengths, the longest strands falling just above my shoulders. There was still a few inches of hair on my chin. I couldn't wait to get rid of it completely. Though I wasn't fond of the idea, Caoimhe planned on continuing her duties of bringing my meals to the dungeon. This way, she said, no one would ever realize that I was gone.

I was surprised at my sadness at leaving. For twenty years Caoimhe had been my only friend - my confidant. I told her everything, and she knew more about me than anyone. A part of me wanted to take her away too, but I knew I couldn't and she would refuse anyway. Her family and friends were here. I may have hated the place, but it was her home and she loved it.

And so as we parted, I knelt down to kiss her forehead and she hugged me. We spoke one last goodbye, and then I vanished.

* * *

**Sarah**

Christmas was always a bittersweet time at our house. Only rarely did I go to my parents' house for the holidays, and that was only when I was pressured. At first I claimed that Emma was too young to travel so far. Then it was having to work. I always made up an excuse. For some reason I always felt the need to be home in that flat for Christmas. _Just in case he comes back._ By the time Emma was seven and we had the house, Dad, Karen, and Toby had already started a tradition of going to Hawaii for Christmas. So once again I sat in front of the fireplace, sipping from a mug of hot cocoa. It was nine o'clock, and Emma was already in bed. She was so excited for Santa to come that she put herself to bed just after eight. She never would tell me what she asked Santa for every year, but I knew what it was.

Her Daddy.

Every year she'd turn a chair to face the door as she opened her presents. I could always see the disappointment when Jareth never walked through it. I felt the same way. It broke my heart to think that she may never get to meet her father. I knew Jareth would make a great Dad and probably spoil her rotten. No, _definitely_ would spoil her rotten. I couldn't help grinning to myself as I thought of it.

"Damnit, Jareth, where are you?" I whispered to myself.

The house was eerily silent. Outside, I could hear the faint ringing of bells down the block. Some neighbors on my little dead-end street would go around each year ringing bells to make the children think Santa was coming and get to bed. It was a cute tradition. Emma was always in bed by the time they went by, but she'd always comment Christmas morning about hearing Santa.

Glancing out the window, I noticed it had started snowing. Big, fat snowflakes too. It was going to be a white Christmas this year with lots of snow for playing. It was my favourite part of living in New England. I wondered if it snowed in the Underground. Had Jareth ever made a snowman or smacked a goblin with a snowball? I laughed out loud at the thought of Jareth all bundled up and playing in the snow. He seemed so arrogant and haughty when I first met him, but our second encounter showed me a new side of him. He was romantic, playful, and considerate. He was a true gentleman in every sense of the word. Except for knocking me up and disappearing, of course. But then again, he didn't know I was pregnant.

Over the years, my heart ranged to and from various emotions and scenarios. Sometimes I would have myself convinced that something had happened and he was dead. Then a few months later, I would swear that he had known of my pregnancy and stayed away, fearing responsibility. Then maybe he was alive and trapped somewhere. Maybe he was at war. Nowadays, I just wasn't sure. I just knew he was far away... and I missed him.

* * *

**Author's Note: Got inspired to write this last December while listening to TSO's cd "Christmas Eve and Other Stories" - specifically, the songs "Ornament," "Old City Bar," "Promises To Keep," and "This Christmas Day." The story won't follow the storyline of the songs, but they certainly contributed to my melancholy mood while writing it. I certainly recommend listening to them if you haven't.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Songs belong to Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO), everything Labyrinth belongs to Jim Henson, and David Bowie belongs to Iman. :(**

**

* * *

**

_"So, tell me Christmas are we wise  
To believe in things we never see  
Are prayers just wishes in disguise  
And are these wishes being granted me  
For now I see the answering  
To every prayer I've prayed"_

- This Christmas Day, TSO

* * *

**Jareth**

I had intended to transport myself in front of Sarah's flat. I stood confused for a few moments in the middle of a dark, empty parking lot. Where was Sarah? More importantly, where was I? This was obviously not Sarah's flat. But of course, it had been ten years here. Who knew where she was now. Silently, I cursed myself. My magic was useless now. I had used up my reserves just to transport here. I had to find her without it. But how?

It was freezing, and I was still wearing the same clothing I had all those years ago. But now they were worn. My thin grey breeches had a few holes in them, and my shirt was paper-thin. My fading black leather vest was the warmest article I had on, but it only buttoned partway up. Even my leather boots didn't keep the chill away. I just hoped I didn't freeze to death before I found Sarah. Wrapping my arms around myself, I trudged down the sidewalk. It was empty. A few cars passed by, so I knew I was Aboveground. It seemed to be a small town. I never had paid much attention when I was here before, and hadn't seem anything besides the inside of Sarah's flat.

Sarah. I let out a deep sigh as I thought of her. My green-eyed, raven-haired beauty. How I longed to finally hold her again, to kiss her, to love her. I couldn't give up. Not now. I had come so far, so long.

And if it wasn't cold enough, it was starting to snow. I shivered involuntarily and stopped under the awning of a small, closed shop.

This was pointless, walking aimlessly. How could I hope to find her when I didn't even know where to start looking?

"You look lost." I turned to see an older man - well at least he _looked_ older than me - standing at the door of one of the shops, locking up.

"A little," I managed.

"Where ya headed?"

I paused. What was Sarah to me? "My friend. I came to see her, but she's apparently moved. Her flat isn't there anymore."

"She not in the phone book?"

"The what?"

The man laughed and reopened the door he'd just locked, flipping on a light inside. "Come on in out of the cold."

Not very reluctantly I followed him. It was much warmer inside and, a few hard shivers and a sniffle or two later, my body was rejoicing. He pulled a fat book onto a counter and looked up at me.

"What's her name?"

"Sarah."

He stared at me for a few moments before chuckling. "She have a last name?"

I nodded. Well, didn't I feel dumb. The cold must be affecting my mind, I thought. "Williams."

Quickly, he flipped to the back of the book and started scanning the pages. I took the opportunity to look around. It seems this little shop was actually a cafe. Booths lined the front alongside the windows and the side wall, while the middle was reserved for three tables. The counter we stood at took up most of the back wall and had lots of stools lined up in front of it. The whole place was decorated in black and white tile with a splash of red here and there. A clock behind the counter was proudly labeled Hard Rock Cafe. The time was 9:37.

"Williams Sarah," the man spoke. "406 West Main Street. That's just a few blocks over." He looked back up like he was studying me. "I can give you a ride if you need it."

I nodded. At this point I was willing to take any help I could get.

The ride was only a few minutes and filled with silence. Pete, I learned his name was, finally pulled over in front of a small two-story home. It was quaint. White with black shutters and a white picket fence protected the small yard. I just stared for a few moments. Sarah was inside that warm home. Would she take me back? Was there another man in there with her? I knew I couldn't live if she turned me away. Very few things could kill me, but I would do it. Her memory was the only thing that kept me going all these years. If I didn't have that hope anymore...

I felt something being pressed into my hand and jolted.

"Just in case you need it," Pete started. I looked down to see a small card in my hand. "I volunteer for a homeless shelter downtown. The address is on there and my phone number's on the back."

I nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the cold wind. I waited until the car turned around and drove off back down the street. This was it. Never in my long existence had I ever been so nervous. I was... had been... a king. I sighed remembering my past. At one time I thought myself invincible. One of the most powerful Sidhe in the Underground, I felt that no one would ever challenge me. Then I fell in love. Defeated by a girl-child. I had wanted her so bad. And when I finally did get her, in my moment of weakness, my entire kingdom was stolen away from me.

Strange thing is... the only thing I cared about was losing Sarah. After she left I had sworn that I'd give up everything if I could only have her back. I suppose the fates took me at my word.

Soft snow covered the sidewalk up to her house. I walked slowly, carefully. The snow was coming much harder now, and the temperature was even colder. I suddenly missed the warmth of the shop and shivered again. With another deep breath, I forced myself to calm down, raised my hand to the door and knocked.

* * *

**Sarah**

I sat in my large comfy recliner with my feet tucked under me. This had to be my favourite spot in the whole house. I had moved the chair closer to the fire and just sat there watching it. Fire was something that fascinated me. It reminded me of Jareth. Wild, powerful, dangerous, beautiful. It could be gentle and bring us warmth, providing us with the heat we need to live. But given the right circumstances, its fury could inflict chaos, destruction, and death. I admired and feared them both, but if ever given a choice, I would choose Jareth. I needed him. _We_ needed him. My daughter was the only thing that kept me going anymore. Jareth took half my heart when he left. Emma had the other half.

I glanced over to the large tree in front of the window. After Emma had went to bed, I had busied myself placing all the presents from Santa under the tree next to the ones from me. I was lucky enough in my job now to be able to afford all those presents without financial pressure. And she'd been so good this year. It was such a wonderful feeling to be able to give her what she wanted. Well, almost. One present was distinctively missing.

A quiet knock on the door broke me out of my thoughts. Putting down my mug of cocoa, I slowly stood up. Who in the world would be coming by this time of night? Dad, Karen, and Toby were already in Hawaii, and the carolers had been by hours ago. I peeked out the tiny window in the door but could only see a head. A blonde head turned downwards to stare at the porch. My heart couldn't help but race. There was only one particular shaggy-headed blonde I desperately wanted to see. Although the hair didn't seem as wild as Jareth's.

Slowly, I opened the door. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The man lifted his head and looked straight into my eyes. My breath stopped. He was more rugged than before, but his eyes gave him away. One pale blue and one earthy brown. His hair was shorter, and his chin was covered with a shaggy beard. My knees felt weak as I forced myself forward. I couldn't even blink. Carefully, I reached a hand out to touch his cheek. The electricity sparked through me, and I gasped. Before I even realized what I was doing, I had thrown my arms around his shoulders. His arms went around my waist and pulled me close.

He was so cold. The frigidness of the December wind clung to his paper-thin shirt. His hair, damp from the snow, stung my skin like ice. How long had he been outside? I hadn't failed to notice the tatty condition of his clothes. What had happened to him? My poor Jareth. I could only silently thank every deity in existence that he was back in my arms again. We must've stood there like that for several minutes before I finally pulled back just enough to see his face again. Oh God, he was beautiful to look at. Even like this, and I am so not a fan of facial hair, I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. A thumb gently moved to caress his cheek, but he quickly moved his hand to cover mine before hesitantly moving forward to capture my lips with his. If we hadn't been holding on to each other, I would've collapsed.

In that instant I noticed something I hadn't realized before. For all these years, everything that my lips touched - ex-boyfriends, a glass of water, the tip of a pencil - in _everything_ they had been seeking out this taste. His taste. Completely indescribable. Unless one has been lucky enough to kiss a magical being, they would never understand the taste of magic. The best I could come to describing it would be to compare it to a combination of electricity, fire, ice, metal, and rain. It was shocking and earthy, and left your lips tingling and sensitive like they'd been hit by lightning. Magic.

I could've stayed like that forever if I hadn't noticed him shiver slightly. That was when I remembered the thin, decrepit state of his clothing. Pulling back, I grabbed his hands and stepped backwards.

"Come inside; it's freezing out here."

* * *

**Author's Note: Got inspired to write this last December while listening to TSO's cd "Christmas Eve and Other Stories" - specifically, the songs "Ornament," "Old City Bar," "Promises To Keep," and "This Christmas Day." The story won't follow the storyline of the songs, but they certainly contributed to my melancholy mood while writing it. I certainly recommend listening to them if you haven't.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Songs belong to Trans-Siberian Orchestra (TSO), everything Labyrinth belongs to Jim Henson, and David Bowie belongs to Iman. :(**

**

* * *

**

_For of all the dreams  
You were the first I knew  
And every other one  
Was a charade of you  
You stayed close when I was far away  
_

_And in the darkest night  
You always were the star  
You always took us in  
No matter who we are  
So she's coming home this Christmas Day_

- This Christmas Day, TSO

* * *

**Jareth**

Warmth. I hadn't felt warmth like this in so many years. I must've become so used to the dungeon to not notice to constant chill. But now, sitting in a bathtub full of hot water, I felt like I was in Heaven. Sarah sat on the edge of the tub with a tall cup, gently pouring water over my head to rinse out the shampoo she'd put in it. Now there was another slice of Heaven - Sarah's hands gently massaging my scalp. A man could get used to that. I was so tired that I barely had the strength to wash myself, but I think I did a decent job. Sarah washed my back. Yet another thing I could get used to.

I had hoped for, but wasn't sure I actually expected, Sarah's reaction to seeing me. I didn't miss the few tears rolling down her cheeks when she pulled me inside. The room was dark except for the light from the fireplace. She quickly turned it off and led me down a short hallway. The room we entered must have been her bedroom. The bed was the same one I remembered, and I almost smiled at the memory. Shutting the door behind us, she moved in front of me again.

"I want... I _need_ to know what the hell happened. Where you've been. I have been worried sick and missing you so much." Her voice cracked, but she cleared her throat and continued. "But you look like hell, and I think you need to get cleaned up and into some warm clothes first."

She grabbed my hand and led me into a small, attached bathroom. I was instructed to take my clothes off as she leaned over a large, white bathtub and turned the water on. It was strange undressing. I hadn't been naked in twenty years, and I felt strangely vulnerable. Though the prospect of a bath and being clean was greatly welcome.

Sarah disappeared as I got out of the bath and dried myself off. She returned a few minutes later with some clothes saying they'd been left by an ex. I didn't ask; didn't want to know. The underwear fitted strangely similar to my breeches, except stopped at the upper thigh. Comfortable actually. The sleeping pants were black, cotton, and fit perfectly. I hadn't planned on putting on the white, cotton t-shirt but did anyways. Even though Sarah's home was warm, I still felt a slight chill after being in the hot bath. Finally, I was starting to feel normal again.

"Feel better?"

I nodded. "Do you have a sharp knife?"

"What for?" Her eyes widened, then she grinned as I scratched my chin. I really needed to get this shit off my face. "Here." She opened up a mirror above the sink and pulled out what she called a razor and shaving cream.

Having Sarah on my lap brought back many wonderful memories. She had sat me down in a chair she pulled from the bedroom. At first she was standing, her legs straddling mine. But I couldn't resist and grabbed her waist to pull her down, placing my hands on her lower back. She just rolled her eyes and continued to use water, the cream, and the razor to cut my beard off. I definitely preferred this to Caoimhe's knife. Later, we'd see what she could do with my hair.

* * *

**Sarah**

Slowly but surely, the old Jareth was returning. I had to stop myself from kissing him again when he pulled me down on his lap and possessively held on to me. And with the beard now gone, he even looked like himself again. Well, his hair needed work, but that could wait. I could tell he was tired, and so was I. Leading us out of the bathroom, I directed him to lie down on the bed and went to turn off the light. Jareth quickly surveyed the room, and rounded the bed to the other side. I laughed to myself realizing he took the side closest to the door. A psych professor once mentioned this quirk some men have about always taking the side of the bed closest to the door. Apparently, it was a subconscious act in order to put themselves between their loved one and potential harm. With a startling realization, I remembered that neither of my exes had ever taken that side of the bed. My heart swelled.

Laying down next to him in the dark just felt so right. He was on his side, facing me and quickly pulled me close. I felt more than heard him murmur "thank you" as he kissed my lips softly. Gently, I brushed damp hair back from his face and wrapped my arm over his shoulder. It was somewhat of an awkward position, and he moved to his back, pulling me into his arms so my head rested on his shoulder.

I couldn't sleep though. I was excited and nervous all at once. He was here. Jareth. The love of my life and the father of my daughter was back after ten long years. I smiled thinking that Emma would finally get her Christmas present. She would be so excited tomorrow. But of course, Jareth and I needed to talk first. I wasn't stupid, and if he planned to leave again... I wasn't going to break my daughter's heart that way. So far, I had no reason to consider that he had stayed away voluntarily, but would he want to be a father? There was no way he could deny she was his. Emma looked like a little mini-Jareth with tamer hair.

First thing in the morning, I would make him tell me everything.

* * *

**Author's Note: Got inspired to write this last December while listening to TSO's cd "Christmas Eve and Other Stories" - specifically, the songs "Ornament," "Old City Bar," "Promises To Keep," and "This Christmas Day." The story won't follow the storyline of the songs, but they certainly contributed to my melancholy mood while writing it. I certainly recommend listening to them if you haven't.**


End file.
